Boys of Summer
by ryukin
Summary: Squall mopes around Balamb after breaking up with Irvine; plans to win him back after a heart to heart with himself
1. Pain of Love

Part one of what shall be a little story that plays whenever I hear "Boys of Summer". Which, thanks to the Ataris, is all the freakin' time. No complaints - I love the song, but I need to get this visual down on paper before it drives me batty.  
  
This is just a prelude to the main chunk of the story. Pre-song, I guess. I'll write one for each verse, if I ever get off my butt.  
  
Yah right.  
  
I had more of this fic, but it saw the garbage can pretty quick 'cause it sucked. Oh, how it sucked. So now I must start anew.  
  
I wanna finish it . but someone needs to poke me to get it going. Send me a review-poke if you think I should finish this piece of lonely sap. And now . on with the show!  
  
Pain of Love  
  
Irvine hugged me closer, holding me tight to his chest. I stiffened as he buried his face in my hair, hands running over my chest.  
  
He wrapped his hands around my face from behind and turned me to face him. He grinned, nuzzled my cheek, and kissed me, not hard but definitely not gentle. I felt his tongue press against my lips; I habitually let him enter my mouth.  
  
Irvine's hands moved to my shoulders and grabbed the lining of my jacket and turned me bodily around. I moved so I was straddling his lap. He held me closer, muttering some nonsense I couldn't decipher into my mouth. He pulled me up and whispered into my ear:  
  
"Squall, baby ... I love you..."  
  
My stomach churned painfully.  
  
Before he could say anymore, I pulled back. He struggled against my movement, lips brushing my cheek as his hands wrapped in my hair.  
  
"Irvine," I began, turning my head in an attempt to break his hold on me. "Irvine, we ... have to talk..."  
  
I was gonna throw up.  
  
"'Bout what, love?" he continued to paw at me, one hand pushing under my shirt, gliding up my skin he knew so well. His other hand grabbed both my wrists, pinning them against his thigh. He kissed my ear gently, nipping down my jaw line.  
  
"Irvine, please..."  
  
Stop that.  
  
He took my plea as one of desire, pressing our lips together again. I moaned against his mouth, the sound reverberating between us. He had my shirt yanked up to my collarbone. He was tickling my bare chest lightly.  
  
He suddenly flung himself down backwards in the nest of his bed sheets, dragging me with him. I fell on top of him with a light groan.  
  
Grinning up at me, the cowboy hooked his hands around my neck, simultaneously grabbing my hips between his thighs.  
  
I was caught.  
  
My chest suddenly tightened in a way it always did when Irvine ... got too comfy with me.  
  
I wanted him.  
  
I probably needed him.  
  
We were perfect for each other, bringing out each other's good when all seemed wrong.  
  
I ... love him.  
  
I feel sick.  
  
"Irvine..." I breathed, trying again while I still had my resolve.  
  
He just smiled and planted a chaste little kiss on my nose. His violet eyes flashed as he pulled my face further down.  
  
"Yes ...?" he drawled, lips brushing oh-so-purposefully against mine.  
  
I couldn't move, so I too talked against his lips. "Let me up." It was an order, but he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still locked with mine. He was challenging me.  
  
He looked so...  
  
I rolled my eyes to the side, looking hard at the tangle of sheets next to Irvine's head. I continued, "This'll be harder in this position."  
  
"Oh, babe," he said slowly, pausing against my lips with each syllable so each was a kiss. "Nothing's hard in this position." He laughed a little to himself, teasing me with his breath. "'Cept me, of course!" To accentuate this point, he raised his hips a little to mine.  
  
Yup. Hard.  
  
And he wasn't the only one.  
  
Fuck.  
  
I felt myself slipping into his warmth, the warmth I longed for with everything I had; but with the warmth always came the empty pit in my stomach, deep and painful...  
  
"Let me up, Kinneas!" There. Commander mode.  
  
I was almost surprised when he did let me go, hands sliding down my back as I sat up.  
  
It took some work to get myself unlodged from between his strong legs, but I was determined.  
  
My stomach felt weak; I'd be lucky if I didn't throw up.  
  
I fixed my shirt and sat next to Irvine, head nestled in my hands. I felt Irvine sit up. He reached over for me, fingertips brushing my jacket, but I pulled out of reach.  
  
"Love? What's wrong?" His voice held so much tenderness and worry as he moved to kneel in front of me, careful as not to touch me.  
  
He always knew what I needed.  
  
"What's up, Squall?" he pressed.  
  
I leaned my elbows on my knees and rested my chin on my clenched fists. I turned to the side, the weight of Irvine's stare almost too much. I swallowed thick and looked down at my thighs. I could see the edge of Irvine's soft suede coat in my line of sight. My eyes focused on my own black leather legs, but my mind was on that soft coat.  
  
And the warm body inside it.  
  
"I need a break." My voice was weak, forced.  
  
"Huh?" Irvine questioned.  
  
Still looking at my pants, I said, "You. A-and me. I need some time." I looked up to him, his face softened with ... oh, Hyne, what was I doing! "I think we need to break things off," I whispered. "For a while."  
  
Irvine looked shell shocked under the shadows of his hat. I gulped down a choke as my traitorous mind replayed scenes of that damn hat: perched like the cherry on a sundae on his naked body, hard and sweaty and all mine ... being flung off to the side in one of our moments of carelessness, only to be followed by a frantic, squealing Irvine seconds later ... how is smelled like his shampoo and just generally felt like him ...  
  
Fuck.  
  
"Irvine. I..."  
  
He shook his head, seemingly waking up. "No, Squall I -- I understand." He looked up at me again, tilting his hat back on his head. I saw him swallow and had to look away.  
  
Can't cry.  
  
Can't feel.  
  
Gotta leave. Now.  
  
I felt worse than I had. Glad I didn't eat breakfast.  
  
I moved to stand, but Irvine was too close. And it just didn't seem right to touch him now. Not right, certainly not fair. For either of us.  
  
As the dreaded 'awkward silence' peaked over us, he stood up. To my surprise, and maybe his too, he reached out a hand to me.  
  
More surprises, I took it.  
  
He took a step back, turning to the side. He still held my hand. He looked down and asked, more to his feet than to me, "Why?"  
  
Oh. I wasn't really prepared for that one...  
  
"I'm not sure," I answered in all honesty. "I think ... that's what I need to find out." He nodded and gave my hand a light squeeze and let go.  
  
"Okay." He turned to me.  
  
"I still love you," I blurted out.  
  
Ah! Idiot!  
  
"I'll always love you, Squall."  
  
Shit. I had to leave. I was gonna cry.  
  
With my face flushed and eyes burning, I awkwardly turned to leave. I paused with my hand on the doorknob, then hurried out as tears welled in the corners of my eyes. They didn't start falling until I collapsed against Irvine's door in the middle of the dark, empty hallway.  
  
My knees gave up holding me and I slid down the dark wood of the door and crumpled on the floor. My jacket was bunched up around my neck, but I didn't care.  
  
I just broke up with Irvine.  
  
My cowboy.  
  
I buried my head in my arms, body wracked with silent sobs. 


	2. Leaving it All Behind

Nobody on the road,  
Nobody on the beach.  
I feel it in the air -  
The sun was out of reach.  
Empty lake, empty streets,  
The sun goes down alone.  
I'm drivin' by your house,  
Though I know, you're not home.  
  
Leaving it All Behind  
  
I locked myself in my office for the next week, distracting this new pit in my soul with the mundane business of running Garden.  
  
It was the only way to ... I don't even know.  
  
I just knew that I needed to keep my hands busy.  
  
And my fucking traitorous mind.  
  
Somewhere deep back there, I knew that breaking up with Irvine was the right thing. Not having his body wrapped warmly against mine as I stumbled into sleep, not waking up to his violet eyes brimming with tenderness.  
  
Who would have thought that our world-class flirt would be so damn emotional.  
  
The bile in the back of my throat when he held me close was not there anymore. I could almost think of eating without dry heaves.  
  
Almost.  
  
Because as the back of my mind was relieved to not have the stress of ... Irvine ... the rest of my mind was kicking my ass. Really hard.  
  
I felt empty.  
  
Hollow.  
  
I found myself wondering if the constant fucking sickness was better than the empty pit consuming me.  
  
No.  
  
No way abso-fucking-lutely not.  
  
I was a killer.  
  
What was I supposed to feel? Joy? Relief? Was I allowed to find comfort with another soul, even for a moment?  
  
I was right to break up with the cowboy. Yah, I felt like crap, but what was I to expect, huh?  
  
Crap is all I should be allowed to feel. Ever.  
  
I'm a killer.  
  
Alone.  
  
Forever.  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
I tossed the stack of papers I was shuffling through across the room. They scattered in a furious flurry -- a squall of paper. A squall of my metaphysical anger.  
  
I wonder if my name was a foreshadowing of what I became over the years.  
  
A fury deep inside my body, a storm of my soul.  
  
If I ever find out who cursed me with my name, I'll wring their necks. Or show them the business end of Lionheart.  
  
I'll give 'em a Squall, damn it.  
  
"Fuck!" I yelled again, louder, as the papers settled on the floor in little piles of responsibility. I should clean them up, but I just don't have it in me. Not now.  
  
I crossed the room in a storm of rage, having enough sense to walk around the papers. I'd probably slip on them and fall; with my blade permanently fixed to my hand, that was an unsuggested activity.  
  
Though a good stabbing sounded pretty good right about now.  
  
Just to make all this shit piling in my head go away. Maybe the metal would fill the void inside.  
  
Maybe.  
  
I heard the papers rustle, little eddies in the squall that was me as I slammed my office door behind me.  
  
Over the past week, people have really gotten the hint to leave me the fuck alone.  
  
They did today, quite nicely.  
  
Hand wrapping (nervously?) around the familiar handle on my blade as it swung bodily at my side, I stalked the halls of Garden. The fountains everywhere where the only solid thing I concentrated on. I passed by people without notice or recognition, past classrooms, faculty, friends.  
  
I just wasn't in the mood.  
  
The constant pouring of water on water was almost a mantra, a soundtrack for my turmoil. Constant, steady and monotonous, the spatter of water was grinding on my last nerves.  
  
I had to leave.  
  
Pronto.  
  
Decision made - without consulting the logical part of brain, but hey, who am I to argue with a ratified decision - I turned back to my room. I made a quick job of packing, throwing a few loose shirts and another pair of plain leather pants in the old duffle bag I've had since forever. Bag swing over my shoulder, hand still curled around my blade's handle, I left my room.  
  
I started down to my left, back toward the nucleus of Garden. Even with my feet moving forward, something was holding me back. I slowed and eventually stopped, allowing my subconscious tug-of-war the chance to play out.  
  
I was compelled to turn back.  
  
So back I went.  
  
Deep inside me in that little place where my emotions actually play out, I knew where I was going.  
  
Still, I allowed myself the comfort of surprise when I stopped in front of room A-203.  
  
Irvine's room.  
  
I stared at the pattern of light playing against its Plexiglas surface. I reached one hand out to touch it, feeling the smooth material under my fingers. It had a slight electric shock to it, sending a miniscule jolt through my hand.  
  
I pulled my hand back to my body, wrapping it in a fist over my chest. It hadn't hurt, not physically, but .  
  
I was still a slave to the hold Irvine had over me.  
  
Fuck, he wasn't even in the room. It was mid morning - he had class now. His last week of class before he too took the SeeD test.  
  
His last week before he would need to choose to stay on the Balamb team as a soldier, or an instructor, or to simply take his graduation and leave.  
  
Say his goodbyes and move back to Galbadia, or to find his own path in the world.  
  
I wish his path will have me in the equation somewhere.  
  
I think.  
  
I don't know.  
  
Don't know much anymore. I need to know, and that is the problem. I am the leader of this joint, and if I can't even sort out my personal life, or hell, even my head, how am I to run Garden?  
  
The whole operation will fail if I cannot figure myself out.  
  
Damn it, Irvine!  
  
I beat the door once with my fist, hard enough for the side of my hand to ache.  
  
With that, I turned and left, determined to leave what was behind behind. I was determined to get my shit straight. Maybe then . I can figure out what it is that nags at me constantly. Maybe then .  
  
I turned of my thinking before I went places I did not want to go right then and walked through the hallways back to my office, where I left a note for Quistis about what I was doing. She'd understand.  
  
She was always telling me that I needed to go out on vacation. She'd be happy I had finally left.  
  
And honestly, I didn't care if she wasn't.  
  
Note written, excuses made, I practically ran through Garden to get out to the city. I took the long way because the direct route would have taken me past Irvine's Battle Strategy class. I'd had enough reminiscing for one day, thank you.  
  
Balamb was pleasantly deserted as I crossed town to the rental lot. Most people were doing their morning chores, or were in school, their jobs, or perhaps still tucked in bed.  
  
I rented a simple car - I had never seen the need for extravagance. Though I could afford it now. Being headmaster of what was now the most famous Garden facility in the world did have its perks. I was just a believer in practicality.  
  
So what if the car I got was ten years old, an ugly model, and primer white? It had a motor. It'll get me out of here just fine.  
  
That's all that counts.  
  
I took off unceremoniously after tossing my bag in the backseat. After a moment's thought, I had placed Lionheart in the passenger seat. It wasn't paranoia - my blade was a comfort item. It was the only thing in my life that stayed constant. No changes, no surprises, and best of all, no emotions. I could not hurt the weapon, and as long as I did not turn it upon myself, it would never bring harm to me.  
  
I could understand my blade. Unlike everything else in my life, now or at any other time.  
  
The streets were empty as I twisted through the countryside. I didn't bother to look at the road signs. Didn't care where I was. I had no plans, no destination. No schedule, and no one else to worry about.  
  
This was my time. Me and the shit fucking up my mind.  
  
It was between us now. Me vs. the shit.  
  
Hyne, I hope I come out on top. 


	3. Defeated But Determined

But I can see you -  
  
Your brown skin shining in the sun  
You got your hair pulled back  
And sunglasses on, baby  
And I can tell you -  
My love for you will still be strong,  
After the boys of summer have gone  
  
Defeated but Determined  
  
I lost.  
  
After three days of wandering in circles around the countryside, I still hadn't figured out what was wrong with me. Three days with nothing but my thoughts, and I had nothing to show for it.  
  
Big heap of nothing.  
  
I had forgotten to take my phone out of my bag when I left. By day two, I was getting a dozen calls an hour, each one sounding oddly more desperate than the next, even though the ring's tone never changed.  
  
It was beginning to get on my nerves, but I didn't answer until mid-morning of my third day free.  
  
"Yes?" I answered calmly, even though I felt like growling.  
  
"Squall? Squall, you're alive!" Quistis' voice was tinny and sounded as far away as she was.  
  
I turned the radio down and frowned. "I am alive, yes."  
  
"I was worried." And she sure as hell sounded it - she usually kept her emotions almost as disguised as I did.  
  
I said nothing in reply, letting her comment hang in the empty air. I heard her take a deep breath.  
  
"I'm so glad. Ir- We were all worried about you. Your note wasn't exactly explicit." Her voice held a questioning lilt at the end, silently asking me everything all at once.  
  
I answered with more silence. Anyone else would have questioned my presence at my end of the phone, but Quistis knew me too well. She plowed on:  
  
"When do you plan on coming back?"  
  
"Sometime."  
  
"This Garden doesn't run itself, Leonhart."  
  
I stepped on the gas, eyes glued to the spance of road in front of me. ".Maybe it would be better if it did."  
  
"I think you'll find many a body around here ready to beg differently. Squall, we need you."  
  
Shaking my head, I said, "Whatever."  
  
Quistis' voice echoed my word back at me, same time, same tone. Damn, she even had my timing down perfectly.  
  
She laughed lightly, emotion thick in her voice as she repeated, "We need you. Come back home, okay?"  
  
"I still have something I have to do."  
  
Quistis took the tone of the helpful friend, "Do you need something, Squall? Someone? I'm not totally sure what's going on, but I want to help y- "  
  
I pressed the off button with my thumb and threw the phone down on the seat.  
  
These were my demons. And I couldn't handle them.  
  
But I had to regain control. On my own. I didn't need anyone's help, thank you.  
  
This thought as I pulled up to a little Mom-and-Pop diner to learn of my current location. Yah.  
  
I'm totally the king of self-reliance.  
  
Over a cup of slightly grainy coffee, I learned that I was just a few hundred miles from Balamb. Thought I'd be further away, but going in circles really doesn't get you very far, I suppose.  
  
I took off as the sun began its decent in the evening sky, heading for the coastline. I'd follow that back to home. I was the only sign of life on the road.  
  
Bad sign for the road, 'cause I wasn't feeling too full of life at the moment.  
  
It always surprises me how tired I get from merely driving. It's not exertion, just a deep-set exhaustion settled over the whole of me.  
  
And I don't think my exhaustion was just from the driving.  
  
I kept to the road until I saw a small strip of beach next to the highway. Before, the coastline had been rough and rocky. The sand was an inviting sight. As was the moonlight glinting gently on the cusps of tiny ocean waves.  
  
I pulled over to the side of the road and hiked down to the beach, removing my boots as I hit the sand. I left them in the last little patch of beach grass and wandered down to the rolling surf. The heat was almost surprising after getting out of the air-conditioned car.  
  
The night's stagnant heat was blown away by the gentle breeze that only an ocean could offer. It whipped my hair around my face as I wadded barefoot into the shallows. I bent over to roll my pant legs up as far as they would go, which wasn't much. I watched the ocean curiously for a while as it nipped at my ankles. My feet grew numb, and the feeling quickly spread up my entire body.  
  
I succumbed eagerly to the feeling of emptiness. I breathed the cool air deep, closing my eyes. Hands in my pocket, I stood back, reveling in my void.  
  
I was so caught up in reveling that I almost fell asleep. I snapped back to reality when a particularly insistent little wave soaked the bottom of my rolled-up leathers. The tide was coming in for the night.  
  
I retired back to my car with a yawn. I sat down on the hood, engine making little pops and ticks under me as it cooled from the day's trip. I leaned back, watching the stars blink into nocturnal existence.  
  
I concentrated on them, trying to fill my mind with anything except Irvine.  
  
It was easier that I thought it would be, 'cause I fell asleep immediately.  
  
I woke up to the reddish light of the sun beating down through my eyelids. Yawning and blinking into the dark of the crook of my arm, I rolled of the hood of my car. The metal was starting to heat up; my shirt was sticking to it.  
  
I just woke up and it was already hot enough to be sweating.  
  
And people wonder why I'm a winter person.  
  
I took off my shirt and wandered lazily down to the beach to collect my boots. Footwear in hand, I continued to the shore again.  
  
The water was tinted orange with morning light at the cusps of the waves, which were growing stronger and more violent with each roll of the water.  
  
It was weird, waking up alone. I couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness. It rested upon me like a weight every morning.  
  
Shaking myself, I walked back up the hill to the car, shoeing away the seagulls flocking around the vehicle. They fluttered back into place as I shut myself in.  
  
I revved the engine, scattering the gulls in a flock of annoyed squawks and loose feathers.  
  
I fiddled with the radio dial, trying to find anything loud and pissed off.  
  
Like me.  
  
I wished I had brought some CDs.  
  
As I cursed the local stations, each one bent on pumping bubble-gum sap or oldies into my car, an idiot light on the dash popped on, warning me that I was running practically on fumes.  
  
Shit.  
  
I barely rolled into a gas station some thirty miles on. I felt the engine stressing to press on. It heaved what seemed to be a sigh of relief as I pulled up next to a pump. I shoved the nozzle into the gas tank (Hyne, this never seemed to sexual before - I'm going crazy) and turned in to the convenience store. I grabbed a box of donuts and some dried fruit and headed to the freezer cases in the back for a cold can of coffee. The tired- looking lady at the counter rang me up. Damn. Gas was expensive out here.  
  
I left with my pockets considerably lighter and a donut between my teeth. I drove nonstop until I reached Balamb a few hours later. It was mid- afternoon when I returned the car to the man running the rental lot. He tried to make small talk, all "How was your trip?" and "Did you have a bit of fun away from home?"  
  
I shrugged, not to be rude, but I wasn't exactly in a people mood at the moment. He sighed and gave up, printing out my bill. I paid and left, shoving the receipt in the trashcan outside.  
  
I sauntered slowly through the streets toward Garden. It was just before dinner; the scent of lovingly prepared meals permeated the thick air. Kids were playing in their yards and racing up and down the sidewalk.  
  
I dodged a couple of young boys, about eight years old, barreling haphazardly down the walkway. I decided to go home the less-populated back route.  
  
The air finally began to cool as a gentle breeze fluttered the leaves over my head and brushed my hair into my eyes. I couldn't figure out where the wind was coming from; it seemed to be surrounding me, engulfing me in its welcoming, cool embrace.  
  
The wind lightened to a bare brush against my skin. I stopped at the side of the road for a moment, soaking up its caress.  
  
Looking around, I saw mothers calling kids one by one into the house to wash up, men out for a walk with their dogs and old friends.  
  
Out near Garden, I could see a group of people out at the baseball diamond. I'd forgotten we had a team - I never was much into sports. Besides training, I never knew what was happening until I was forced to write up the paperwork on it.  
  
Curios about how practice was going, I wandered down to the back fields of the campus.  
  
I stood behind the backstop, some way off as to not disturb anyone, and looked over the team.  
  
Oh.  
  
Out of all the players, only one was wearing a hat.  
  
Figures it was a big black Stetson. Hyne, he never took the thing off.  
  
I started to turn around, to back up a few steps, but I stopped.  
  
What can I say - I wanted to ogle. For some reason, it was so much easier from a distance.  
  
I watched Irvine run backwards and reach for the ball soaring toward him. He had his head tilted way up to follow the ball's path under the brim of his hat.  
  
He caught the plummeting ball and threw it cleanly to second base. Donno if the baseman caught it or not - I was rather distracted.  
  
The thin light accented Irvine's tan, turning it a glowing shade of orangey- brown. Light red streaks shone in his ponytail as it swung around his shoulders. He turned to talk to the outfielder standing closest to him.  
  
Back to me, I watched as he cocked his thin hips, hands curled in casual fists on either side of them. The light reflected on the sunglasses he wore, despite the shade his hat gave him.  
  
I watched him jog back to his spot between first and second. He clapped his hands once, bending down in preparation to dart to the next ball lobbed his way.  
  
I chuckled softly to myself. Irvine's always eager for anything.  
  
The next batter struck out twice and finally hit the ball, right into the pitcher's hands.  
  
Groans rose from the batters. They jogged out to take their places on the field.  
  
I watched Irvine jog up the dugout off to my right. He clapped his hand on the shoulder of the boy who struck out as they met on the diamond. "Hey, Salas - better luck next time!" he said with an encouraging grin.  
  
Salas held the conversation a bit longer; Irvine's eyes wandered and suddenly found mine. He pulled his shades down with one finger and peered over the rims at me.  
  
He grinned a little, almost shyly, and gave me a little wave.  
  
I blushed a little, I know.  
  
Why do I always do that?  
  
I grinned back at Irvine - couldn't help it, the cowboy had the most infective smile I've ever seen. I turned my head to the side. From the corner of my eye, I saw Salas playfully punch Irvine's arm.  
  
In return, Irvine smacked the retreating boy on the ass.  
  
I missed that being my ass .  
  
Hmm .  
  
I really miss him. I miss everything about him, and as soon as I clear my head, I'll see if he wants me back in his life.  
  
Really hope he will.  
  
I swung my bag back over my shoulder and hazarded one last glance back at Irvine. The cowboy was looking back at me, hand tangled casually in the hair at the base of his ponytail. I could feel his eyes follow me all the way back to Garden.  
  
Okay. I'm really stuck on the next chapter. I know how I want it to go, but I just have the basic feeling, you know? No actions, no words are coming to my mind. I think I'll rewrite it. It could take a while, though. (The real problem is that I have the whole end planned out - I just lack the middle!) Arg! 


End file.
